It's become sort of a cliche to write about reading in coffee shops. But I have to, because I did it for the first time yesterday.
I have a favorite coffee shop. The atmosphere is simply perfect. Dark, soothing colors, not cluttered with trinkets, yet has enough art and 'things' around to make it interesting. Their coffee is more than decent, and they serve my favorite drink. The people are friendly, seating is ideal, it's right next to a bookstore, and they're right on a street corner, so that anywhere you sit, you can watch the cars pass by on our busy little mainstreet. Yet, despite their being my 'perfect place', whenever I go, I'm either with a friend, or on the run.
Yesterday was different. I had an entire day to spend exactly as I pleased: and I was pleased to read a beautiful little book, curled up in the corner of a deep, soft couch, across from a reasonably realistic, fake fireplace, while holding a warm, smooth Tsunami in my hand. And it was wonderful. Obsorbed in the tissue-thing pages, oblivious to the passing of time, with no pressing engagements to claim me, and a free drink on my card, I had a beautiful time, and did not leave for at least three hours.
I look forward to the next holiday.

When I was a little girl, I used to watch my daddy wash his hands when he came home from work. I was always amazed that he had to use soap twice in the same washing. It was fascinating to watch the white bubbles turn a murky brown, slowly disappear, and then be washed down the drain. To me, having to re-soap made you a grown-up, which was a very good thing to be. So I began to run outside before meals and rub my hands in the dirt, so my bubbles would turn brown, and I would have to use more soap. But for some reason, my brown bubbles never looked the same as daddy's, and I could only make myself believe that I felt grown-up.

How many of you think 'the giant tortoise' is a perfect name for a blog?

My sister: "I wish I could wear Elf's clothes."

Me: "I wish I was tall enough to wear Elf's clothes."

Never frown, because you never know
when someone is falling in love
with your smile.

Last night my sister and I saw 'Return of the King'. All I can say is wow. I cried through the last part of the movie, it is so vivid, and you can feel everyone's pain so very acutely. I love the end, how you keep thinking each scene is really going to be the final one, but, oh happiness, there's another one! and another! and another! I almost didn't want to see it, because it means that it's all over. There are no more. You see three, and you see them all. But I'm so glad I have seen it. What honor and courage it portrays. It's beautiful.
A friend of mine dislikes Aragorn, because he looks as if he hasn't had a shower in months and months. I'm sorry, but in the end, he looks as if he has had a shower, and you must admit that it's terrible. Poofy hair does not work for Aragorn. I much prefer the wet (or, as she would say, grimy) look.

Happy New Year! I'm back, and just bursting with lame excuses! Would you like to hear them all, or should I cut to the chase and say that I just haven't felt like walking all the way out to my freezing garage to get on the internet? I know, that's lame too. Fact: I've thought about it a lot, knowing how much you all must be missing me, what a void there must be in your lives now that I'm not communicating; but laundry calls, and so does shopping, and other mundane tasks which are a part of daily life on planet earth, such as Algebra (oh, we love that), cleaning bathrooms, and so many others.
But the good news is that I've made a resolution. You're probably laughing at this point, for resolutions really have a terrible reputation. But hear me out. I'm going to blog regularly. At least once a month! No, I've really missed it, so I'm going to make a Herculean effort to post very, very often, even if it means going out in the snow to get to my computor.